Striving toward Tomorrow
by Khristallyn
Summary: Maybe tomorrow was never really coming, and maybe coming to terms with that would be all he needed to push him off the edge, but there was still a light at the end of the tunnel and the tunnel was coming to an end. -Sequel to "Within the Asylum"-
1. Two Doors

**Disclaimer: The characters and themes in this fanfic are property of Atlus. I don't own rights to any of it (a few of the characters were my original ideas, though), and this fanfic is purely for entertainment. Thank you.**

_a/n: Wow, it took me a _year _to write this first chapter. A /year/. Worse yet, it's not very good--but I'm writing this for myself, not for everyone else, and I've still got some surprising twists up my sleeve ;D_

_If I don't update this very much, it's because I've got a lot of…crap going on right now._

_As promised, here is the first chapter of Striving towards Tomorrow! (It won't make sense if you haven't read Within the Asylum, I'll warn you ahead of time. It's just a short oneshot, so it doesn't take very long to read if you haven't already.)_

--x--

_I probably should've eaten lunch. I know I'm going to be hungry, but I don't think I could've eaten if I tried. Maybe it's nerves--no, it was that I just wasn't hungry. No, that doesn't sound right, either._

Derek was still within the confines of his box, which surprisingly wasn't the thing that bothered him the most--nothing had changed over the past month or so; but of course, there hadn't been any plans for change. There were people in the Asylum that reacted… negatively to change. He had seen it before. Everyone here had seen it.

Other than the nurses that oversaw his general care, he hadn't had any human contact. This was normal--doctors had been known to quit, so he guessed that that was what had become of his, and visitors were extremely rare. The amount (or lack thereof) of human contact hadn't changed, his surroundings hadn't, on the most part, changed, and the Asylum itself hadn't changed, so what was different?

He was different; that had to be it.

It wasn't like a huge epiphany had hit him whenever Angie had first visited him a year ago, but more like something that had slowly seeped into his mind, growing a bit more apparent with every visit and less ignorable after every departure. After 48 visits and two months of un-nerving inactivity, it was no surprise that he was jumping at the sound of the door. It reminded him of a dog, loyally waiting the return of his master--not that he was a dog or Angie was his master; it was just a metaphor.

"Derek, we're going to meet your new doctor today." The voice wasn't a new one, but he could instantly tell that the person speaking didn't work on the west wing. All of the nurses from the west wing had a gentle, slow way of talking to the patients here--much as if they were trying to explain something to a child. "I want you on your best behavior." The phrase caused whatever enjoyment he might've gotten from the fact that he wasn't being treated as a baby to vanish. It was just another reminder that even if she didn't work on the west wing, he still lived in the west wing. All the same, the nurse annoyed him to no end.

She had blonde hair and green eyes, and reminded him of Angie because of it. Was everything here trying to work against him?

He shuffled awkwardly down the hall with the nurse, hoping that they didn't have to go far. It wasn't that he didn't like walking--the thing that he hated the most was the way that people looked at him. The world would always remember Dr. Stiles and his efforts against bioterrorism, but…he surely wasn't Dr. Stiles anymore. He was just a pathetic man in a strait jacket that got pathetic glances from people who faked sympathy or had trouble hiding their dislike (or, even worse, fear).

"Nurse…" he trailed off because of the speed that her head had jerked towards him. She didn't stop walking, like one of the west wing nurses would've, but continued at a slightly slower pace. "Why did my previous doctor quit? Am… am I getting worse?"

If nothing else, the question caused the ghost of a smile to tug at the edges of her mouth. "No, Derek, you're not getting worse." She bit down on her lip as she pondered over the answer. "You know, Dr. Simmons didn't tell anyone his reason for dropping your case. If I had to make a logical assumption as to why he did so… As odd as this might sound to you, he probably dropped your case because you're getting _better_."

And indeed, it didn't make sense to him. "Does this mean that I'm getting transferred to Dr. Freeman?" Derek found the man's name and his profession ironic. He considered freedom as being as far away from the Asylum as possible, but Dr. Freeman obviously never had the pleasure of spending two years as a patient in the hellish place.

She shook her head in reply, which also confused him. Dr. Freeman and Dr. Simmons were the only doctors that worked on the west wing, so that meant that either there was a new doctor or he was being transferred to the east wing. As far as he had heard, people didn't get transferred out of the west wing into the east wing. The east wing was for people who had a chance of recovery. The west wing… was more or less a place for the crazies to bide their time until they finally passed away. "The hospital is doing something different with your case. While you're going to stay in the west wing for the time being, you're going to be escorted to the east wing every other day to meet with your doctor."

His eyes were wide, and while an untrained gaze might've thought that he looked excited, the nurse could tell that he was more frightened than excited. The sudden change of mood wasn't a result of the conversation, but instead the location that they had reached by rounding the corner.

Two doors stood before them, lacking handles and windows. He had heard stories about these doors. It was impossible _not _to hear stories about the doors. They represented a divide between good and evil in the Asylum--things that passed through them into the lobby were good, things that passed through them into the west wing were bad; things that resided in the lobby and in the east wing were good, things that resided in the west wing were bad. And here he was, just another crazy from the west wing, marveling at this wonderful gateway with his own eyes. The lighting in this area was much better than in the rest of the west wing, at least.

The nurse walked a step away to a phone that was hooked to the wall, picking it up and waiting for a response on the other end. "Nancy, I'm at the doors with Derek. Mind opening them for us?" There was a pause before she looked at Derek and smiled. "No, you won't have to worry about that. He's a good kid." There were a few more words said that he missed before she hung up the phone, grabbing one of the sleeves on his strait jacket. "There aren't any people in the lobby right now, but there might be on some of the other days you'll have to pass through here. Mind you don't pay attention to them."

He barely heard her words as he stared, awestruck over the slow event of the doors opening outwards into the lobby.

_Am I still in the Asylum? This…isn't real. It must not be real. The last two months were a dream. In a moment, one of the nurses is going to wake me up and tell me that I've got a visitor, and I'll see Angie again and tell her about the strangest dream that I had…_

Yet, the lobby seemed too nice and novel and…well, too _real_ to have been something fabricated in a dream. It was spacious, sunny, and had a domed ceiling with skylights that gave him the idea that it hadn't always been an asylum. This was definitely the closest he had ever gotten to freedom. And it would be so easy to escape-- _No; I don't want to be back out in the real world just yet. I'm…just not ready for it yet._

"Come on, Derek. We don't want you to be late to your first appointment, do we?" the nurse asked, pulling him back to reality as she more or less dragged him along by the sleeve.

"No ma'am," he muttered politely, picking up the pace a bit. The front desk secretary glared at him as they walked by before turning back to the paperwork she had been doing before, causing his cheeks to flush in a bright red. _Why do people glare at me like that? They don't know me… they don't know me…_

The nurse caught the end of Nancy's glare and the beginning of Derek's blush out the corner of her eye, ignoring it until they stepped out of earshot. "Just ignore her. She doesn't mean it."

Despite being his first time in the east wing and such, it was all he could do to keep his gaze from hitting the floor. His feelings were hurt, and it dampened the mood quite a bit. It almost reminded him of a sulky teenager with a bit of broken pride. "I'm sorry."

"Eh?" She cast him a strange look before piecing it together. "Derek, you didn't do anything wrong. I'll talk to her after I take you to Dr. Schwehn's office." Her lips pursed together in a thin line, doing her best to keep pace with him whenever he wanted to go slow and take everything--or worse, sulk over the fact that Nancy wasn't too fond of the west wing's inhabitants.

He said nothing as he examined the east wing, trying to put guesses of what he might've done wrong, despite what the nurse was telling him, to the back of his head. "…this is the east wing," he spoke, more to himself than to her.

There were no doors at the beginning of the wing; just a long, spacious hallway filled with apartments, offices, and the occasional piece of medical equipment every now and again. It lacked in windows, but not in people. To his dismay, most of the people coming out of the apartments ducked back in their rooms whenever they saw him coming. West wing patients tended to idolize east wing patients, but what did east wing patients say about west wing ones?

They stopped outside of an office that seemed completely alien compared to the ones that he was used to, but he assumed that this was because _everything _was different outside of the west wing. Hell, even the brass nameplate on his door seemed shinier.

She knocked a few times on the door, getting no answer. "Dr. Schwehn?" she queried, looking as though she wasn't sure if he was even in his office. "Derek Stiles is here to see you."

It wasn't but a few seconds after she said that that the door swung open, revealing who Derek guessed to be Dr. Schwehn. At first glance, he really didn't look like much. His hair (that, despite age, seemed to still be rather thick) was completely devoid of color, giving away his age almost as much as the lines under his eyes. The eyes in question had a calming gentleness to them--and, most likely because he was especially sensitive to things that reminded him of Angie, he noticed that they were almost the same shade of green as the nurse's despite the fact that they were slightly hidden behind his glasses. He stood upright and carried himself with the pride of someone of a younger generation, smiling slightly as he looked over both of them.

"Ah, so this is the Derek that I've heard so much about? Please, come in and make yourself at home." _Home. _The word was strange to him at this point. What he knew to be home was exactly what he was trying not to think about. "Thank you for escorting him here, Nurse Krause. I'll page you whenever it's time for him to go back to his room." She nodded before departing, allowing him to shut the door.

Derek paid no attention to Dr. Schwehn as he absorbed the details of the room from the mint wallpaper to the potted plant in the corner and then to the picture frame on his desk. The cloth on the chair that he had chosen had a small stain on it, from what substance he didn't particularly care to know.

"How has your day been so far, Derek?"

The question barely reached him, and he didn't make an answer until the question had finally absorbed in. "Just like every other day in here, Doctor. I can't really say if it's better or worse." Actually, that was a lie. He had distinguished a difference between good days and bad days--good days were ones in which Adam didn't cross his mind, and bad days were ones in which he did. But, if he told Dr. Schwehn that, he'd probably be transferred back to Dr. Freeman. He didn't want to leave the east wing until he absolutely had to.

"Even after getting to see the lobby and the east wing?" he pushed forward, glancing down at Derek's records while he spoke. From what he could make of Dr. Simmons's notes--actually, he couldn't really make much of them. He reported Derek having extreme hallucinations and reacting negatively to things from outside his cell. There was no telling how accurate these would hold, seeing as the younger doctor had dropped the case quite a long time ago--almost over one year. Had Derek known the size of the gap of inactivity?

Derek paused, debating over what to say. The lobby--no, it was the lobby _ceiling, _was awesome, and the east wing was open and seemed welcoming if you subtracted the actions of the people residing in it. "It was nice," he finally responded, refusing to make eye contact with the unfamiliar person.

By the end of the session (roughly an hour or an hour and a half by his guesses), Dr. Schwehn hadn't found out anything that he didn't already know, but that was such with new patients. "It's been nice talking with you, Derek. I'll see you the day after tomorrow. Tell me while we're waiting for Nurse Krause, are you expecting any visitors?"

Derek's gaze flicked from the spot on the floor up to Dr. Schwehn as soon as he had said that. "Angie," he spoke quickly, getting what was more or less a blank look from him. "Angie is coming to visit me again really soon. She told me herself. She's never forgotten about me before."

There was a knock on the door, interrupting what was the longest response he had managed to get out of him. He got up from behind his desk, opening the door to the same nurse as before. "Nurse Krause, do you know of Derek having any visitors by the name of 'Angie'?" he asked under his breath so that he wouldn't be heard.

She nodded before pausing. "The name rings a bell, but even so, Mr. Stiles hasn't had a visitor in over two months."

Dr. Schwehn nodded before turning back to Derek. "Derek, Nurse Krause is here to help you back to your room," he spoke, forcing the other out of the chair and towards the door. "…Derek? Angie is a busy woman, so I don't want you to be upset if she doesn't come whenever you expect her to."

His expression went from calm to angry as soon as he said that. "Angie is coming. I know it," he growled back, glaring at his new doctor from over his glasses. "You don't know her. She wouldn't forget about me." He didn't move while he was glaring, finally stalking back over to where Nurse Krause was.

"Glenn, what are you getting yourself into?" she asked under her breath, grabbing onto Derek's sleeve once again as Dr. Schwehn turned around, shaking his head slightly.

"I'm not getting myself into anything I can't handle, Jennyth. Please take Derek back to his room." She hesitated before finally walking out the door, listening to it shut quietly behind them.

Her attention turned back to Derek after that, being surprised over the fact that his anger had changed into him just being upset. Upon further inspection, it was obvious that he was trying to hold back tears. "…Derek, are you alright?"

His gaze stayed firmly on the floor as he failed to acknowledge her. "I don't like him."

She shook her head in the same manner that Dr. Schwehn had. "Dr. Schwehn means well. Please don't judge him on first impressions. He's a really nice guy when you get to know him and an amazing doctor to boot--if he upsets you, I could try to get you transferred back to Dr. Freeman--"

"No!" he snapped, cutting her off almost as soon as she had brought up the suggestion. "I can handle having a doctor on the east wing. I just don't want him calling Angie a liar."

Nancy was gone whenever they re-entered the lobby, which was probably for the better since Derek was in no condition to have strange people watching him.

"You just assumed that he was calling Angie a liar. He only said that he didn't want you to be upset if she didn't come when you expected her. That just means that if she doesn't come tomorrow, she might come…the next day," she explained, pushing the doors to the west wing open. "I don't think she'd want you to be bitter at Dr. Schwehn over that."

The answer caught him off guard, and he was even more so whenever he looked up and realized that they were back in the west wing. "…you're right. I'm sorry that I snapped."

_He's like a little kid, _Nurse Krause thought as they walked, going a bit faster than she had originally been going. The west wing wasn't exactly her favorite place to be. "I'm not the one that you should be apologizing to."

"…could you tell Dr. Schwehn that I'm sorry?" he asked innocently, doing nothing to suggest that he wasn't being serious or sincere. _Innocent like a little kid--but he must've been doing something to get him in that strait jacket. _

A slight smile spread over her face at that as she opened the door to his room. "I'll be sure to spread the word. Good bye, Derek."

"Good bye."

He stood in the middle of his room, his eyes narrowed at the drab surroundings. _Home Sweet Home, _he mused to himself before sitting down and closing his eyes. Had that really all been real? Yes, he had seen a world outside of the west wing--a small wonder. He had passed through the doors--

And it was then that he realized that what they said about the doors were lies. He had been over the doorstop and through the lobby--and he was still just Derek Stiles, resident of the west wing and the Angeles Bay Asylum. He was no better and worse.

Now all he needed was to see Angie again, but for now he was able to content himself with a picture of her face as he lied down and drifted slowly to sleep…

--x--

_a/n; Sorry for not putting Angie in this chapter--I've got other plans for her. -evil cackle- Expect to see her in the next chapter, which should take considerably less time since I actually know what I'm doing past this part. -dances- Oh, and a cookie to anyone who can correctly pronounce "Schwehn" (and I'll give you a hint--his name is Glenn Schwehn and it does /not/ rhyme) 3 Auf __Wiedersehen__, loves_

_**I totally beta'd this :)**_

_**--Tay**_

_a/n; I'm only leaving that up there because I love you, Tay xD_


	2. Relapse

Disclaimer: The characters and all that nonsense belong to Atlus (other than the few original characters that I guess would belong to me)

**Disclaimer: The characters and all that nonsense belong to Atlus (other than the few original characters that I guess would belong to me). This fanfic is purely for entertainment. Thank you.**

_a/n: Hooboy, if it seems like I've forgotten about a fanfic, don't think I have. I've just got a lot going on right now, and as soon as summer is here, I'm free 8D_

_This chapter took me awhile to write because I originally knew what I was going to do with it, but then I decided that I wanted to do something else… and then that I wanted to do what I had originally planned… and so forth. In the end, I decided to do what I had originally planned._

_Something I need to say: a big thank you to everyone that reviewed this! (And everyone that put it on their favorites and alerts :3) I'm happy with all the feedback I can get._

_And now, chapter two of Striving towards Tomorrow!_

--x--

He fingered the edges of the thick file, staring down at it with narrowed eyes as if a venomous snake lurked between the sparse details.

"_April 23, 2018_

_The patient is suffering from what appears to be psychosis . . . severe hallucinations . . . reacting violently . . . ruled out substance abuse . . . possible schizophrenia . . . I've arranged for a strait jacket to prevent . . .further damage to himself."_

"Did you figure anything out on Mr. Stiles yet?" Nurse Krause inquired from the doorway, barely startling him.

Glenn shook his head, closing the file softly. "I'm afraid that even if I had, Jennyth, I wouldn't be able to tell you. Dr. Simmons kept records with just enough information, but none of the kind that I'm looking for."

She shook her head, crossing her arms. "I see. Do you still want to see him today? I'd offer to reschedule but… he's gotten worse. There haven't been any big episodes, but I see him muttering to himself a lot." Her arms uncrossed as she began wringing her hands. "According to Nurse Baker, it's a lot like the way he used to be between episodes."

He closed his eyes for a moment, a frown spreading over his face. "It's not uncommon to see patients go back on their progress… I eliminated schizophreniform disorder from the list of diagnoses."

"Of course--it's been well over 6 months. Is that to say that he hadn't already done that?"

"I'm going to assume that he did and didn't write it down. He was with Derek for at least seven months, closer to nine months, if I'm correct. Plus, he noted after speaking with some of Mr. Stiles's acquaintances that there were symptoms well before he was admitted to the facility," he explained, folding his hands on top of the file.

"I understand that Dr. Simmons tried treating him for schizophrenia. Molindone, Olanzapine--older, more tried neuroleptics. What happened with that?"

He shrugged, looking to his watch. "There wasn't a particular reason that he decided to go with older medications that he wrote down. As for the schizophrenia… his symptoms just disappeared. There was something written about it in the August 18, 2019 entry. He dropped the case two months later."

She seemed to get the subtle hint, looking at the clock on the wall. "Oh, I guess I should be getting back to work. I know I probably shouldn't be delving so deeply into this, but… he needs help, like everyone else in here. After everything he's done for the world with the war on bioterrorism, don't you think he deserves something back?"

"I'll do my best."

--x

"_Derek…"_

It was a low, raspy whisper in the back of his head, unthreatening, yet still managing to throw him into another fit of thrashing. He probably looked so pathetic in his strait jacket, flopping around like a fish out of water…

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" he shouted futilely, squeezing his eyes shut. This wasn't supposed to be happening--he had been so stupid to think that it was over…

"_Do you see where medicine has gotten you? Do you see what has become of the people whose lives you selfishly saved? The latter has forgotten you completely… you, their 'savior.' They are your GUILT…"_

He was telling the truth… they didn't remember him… useless… "No. They hadn't done anything wrong! They deserved to live! Humans… humans are good. Some are just misguided…"

"_Yet you dare judge them… You, who lost the ability to die."_

There was a pause as he started laughing. He barely recognized the sound of it whenever it bounced back at him--dry and empty, like a machine. A broken machine… Broken machines got fixed or destroyed. Was that his fate? Total deterioration before the last gear stopped turning?

"You lost the ability to die, Adam. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were death itself."

There was a pause as he fell still, listening to the sound of his own panting. Silence filled the room, only being broken by a wail from the room beside of him. He let out a sigh of relief before propelling himself into a sitting position, skittering across the floor towards the bed in the corner. These were disturbing events, indeed.

_That was the first time Adam has talked to me in…since the third time Angie visited. Angie! Where is she? I know that she hasn't forgotten about that--she wouldn't do that to me. Dr. Schwehn hasn't mentioned anything about her… but sh__e's coming! I know she's coming! Without her…_

He shook his head, threatening to send his glasses to the floor. Damn, this strait jacket was annoying… he'd have to ask one of the nurses to push his glasses further up his nose whenever they came to check on him.

_Without her, I don't have any hope of getting better._

His eyes drifted shut, reaching toward a welcomed release for his aching body. He was getting better… he was getting better…

_I'm getting worse._

_--x_

_At first glance, he didn't look like much of a rocker, but looks could definitely be deceiving. He wore a red hoodie with a strange black logo, and there seemed to be a necklace tucked under his shirt. The only thing that might've given way to the fact was his hair, which was long and blonde, choppily cut. (Long blonde hair… he seems familiar, somehow.)_

"_Y-yo, doc."_

_(This is the polyp patient, isn't it? I probably should've paid more attention to my schedule… and the paperwork…) I put on my usual smile, launching into the basics of the surgery._

"_During today's surgery, we'll be removing a polyp from your throat. How are you feeling? It's important for us to know about any changes to your condition. There could be problems if anything unexpected happens."_

_He more or less shrugged at the question, though I picked up that it wasn't caused by any sort of apathy. "I dunno, fine I guess…?" There was a slight pause. "…I really don't know…"_

"_Huh?" I felt stupid over the answer, but he seemed to ignore the fact that it was simple and something that you usually didn't hear doctors saying._

"_It's just not fair, y'know?" Another pause, then finally a continuation prompted by my stare. "I spend years working part-time, keeping the dream alive… Now, we finally land a contract with a bigtime record producer… and my throat's screwed up."_

_The patient looked hopelessly at me. "So, what? If something goes wrong, I wasted my life? I have to work retail 'til I die because of this stupid polyp thing?"_

_I was caught completely off guard by the comments, even if I probably could've seen them coming. "J-just try to relax… We're hoping for the best," I managed to stutter, wanting to smash my head against a wall or a desk. This definitely wasn't going very well._

_I'll never forget what he said next._

"_Oh, yeah, 'hoping' huh? That's clearly all it takes, right? 'Hope.' Not practice, not discipline…" His gaze turned a bit angry. "…If you could get by on hope, I woulda had a record deal years ago!" The anger faded as he drifted back into his hopeless state. "Maybe Dad was right… I was stupid to think I could be a rock star." The phrases were almost inaudible, spoken to the floor instead of to me._

"_C'mon, try to stay positive. You're going to be fine. Really," I tried to combat, but the damage had already been done._

"_Sorry Dex, Nate, Tisha…" he continued whispering to the floor, curling and uncurling his hands into fists. "…You guys fronted the money and I just ended up letting you down… I don't even think I'll be able to pay it back."_

_A woman came from the side, saving me from making any other useless and/or stupid comments. "…I need to take your blood pressure, Mr. Cox. This way, please."_

"_Tch… Yeah, whatever." He stood up, and the two of them left._

_I had a moment of silence to myself to think about the conversation before the nurse flew back in, vocally charging at me as though the patient wasn't in the room beside of us. "Why didn't you just tell him everything would be fine?" she demanded angrily._

"…_Wait, what?" The shout broke me out of my thoughts, and the fierce glare I received made it seem as though I was an idiot and that the thought had never occurred to me as opposed to just being surprised by the verbal attack._

"_Don't you even read your own notes? You know he was nervous about this!" She took a deep breath, controlling her tone and managing to bring the volume down a few levels. "Our job is about more than just treating illnesses… Proper bedside manner is an essential element in a patient's recovery! Things you say directly affect these people's attitudes."_

_Our first full day together, and I could already tell that she didn't seem to like me._

"_Don't you get it?!"_

_The sudden silence prompted an answer from me. "Y-Yeah… I do."_

_She turned away from me, stalking back towards the room that the patient was in. "I hope you handle things more appropriately during surgery this afternoon," she shot over her shoulder, not bothering to turn around. She hadn't needed to yell at me--I could sulk by myself._

_--x_

Derek's eyes drifted open lazily at the sound of Nurse …something-or-other's voice, which emanated from the open door. "You're going to be late for your appointment with Dr. Schwehn if we don't hurry." _Oh, it's the east wing nurse._

He got to his feet awkwardly, his joints stiff from the position that he had fallen asleep in. "Were you trying to wake me for awhile?" he queried as they walked out of his room and down the hall.

She shrugged, looking at her watch. "Only for ten minutes. Don't worry--I've had to deal with worse. Besides, if you were that tired, I kind of feel bad for waking you."

"Nah, I just sleep deeply."

Today marked the fifth month since his first visit with Dr. Schwehn, but he wasn't keeping count. One would think that after walking down the same dimly lit halls and through the same double doors so many times would've dulled the experience, but he still felt a little thrill whenever he stepped through the windowless doors.

_I get to be on the good side of the divide for a little while._

The biggest thrill, though, was being able to look up through the sky lights whenever he walked through the lobby. Somehow, they made the sky seem accessible… as if he could reach out and touch the stars or feel a warm breeze on his skin from the sun. It reminded him that there was still a world outside the Asylum.

_And one day, I'm going to touch the stars. Just you watch._

Of course, he wasn't going to tell anyone about his aspirations, because on the most part they seemed… infantile, silly at best. But he was going to touch the stars.

"How are you today, Derek?"

He broke from his thoughts, looking up at the psychiatrist. "Not good," he replied softly, allowing his gaze to fall back to the floor. _I shouldn't have said anything… now I'm going to get another lecture about how I'm stupid for believing in "figments of my imagination"… but Adam is real! If only I could show them._

"Oh?" Dr. Schwehn inquired, folding his hands in his lap. It was such a good device--an empty question that almost always brought forth an explanation.

Derek avoided what he considered to be just another trap, shrugging slightly. He trusted that Dr. Schwehn didn't want to trick him into talking about Adam--actually, that was exactly what he thought he would do. "It's just not a good day."

"But why isn't it a good day?"

Another shrug was his only response.

The topic was quickly dropped. "Derek, tell me something. What do you want most?"

For what felt like the third time today, despite the fact that he hadn't really talked to anyone other than Nurse Krause and Dr. Schwehn, he was caught off guard. "I…" Did he really need to think about it? "I want Angie."

A slight pause ensued before he launched into an explanation.

"Not that many people come to see me, you know that. But… even if I had more friends than I could count on my fingers, she'd still be special. Whenever she's around… the world seems brighter, and I feel happy… like I'm not going to have to be afraid anymore." A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "She understands."

"Understands what?" The question was greeted with another shrug.

He found the rest of the appointment to be uneventful, but still managed to get through the hour and a half without touching on the subject of Adam. _Dr. Schwehn seems nice… but I'm tired of being told that I'm wrong._

Now, sitting back in his room, he had no choice but to try and put his mind in motion. Otherwise, it would find something else for him to think about, and chances were that it probably wouldn't be something at the top of his list. _Was I dreaming before the east wing nurse came in here? I really don't remember it… _He let out a sigh, sitting down on his bed. _I think I screwed up badly in it, though. That lady yelled at me… she kind of looked like Angie… _His head jerked back slightly as the thought occurred to him. _Was it Angie yelling at me? _He smiled, shaking his head as his posture loosened. _Nah, Angie would never yell at me._

All that was left to do was pass the time until he was tired enough to go to sleep again.

--x

"Dr. Schwehn…"

He locked the door to his office before turning around, smiling slightly. "Nurse Krause," he greeted, putting the keys in the pocket of his jacket as he started walking. "What do you need this late?"

She shrugged, keeping the pace beside him. "I just thought you should know that Nurse Baker reported Mr. Stiles having an episode shortly before you met with him. He… he's getting worse, isn't he?" There really wasn't a point in asking a question that she already knew the answer to.

The smile faded as he shook his head sadly. "I'd put him on medication, but Dr. Simmons already tried that. Whatever this is happens to come in cycles, and it really wouldn't help. But…"

One of her eyebrows rose slightly whenever he trailed off. "But?" she prompted.

"Do you remember the visitor that I asked about--someone by the name of Angie?"

She nodded before biting down on the bottom of her lip. _I probably should've gone and checked the records about her… Sure, I haven't been around to hear much about her, but she sounds like she was important to Derek. _"What about her?"

"I think it's time we give 'Angie' a call."

--x--

_a/n: And then the chapter ends ;3_

_Sorry for the general lack of Angie again--I originally planned to bring her in this chapter, but then I was all like "Screw it; she doesn't fit with this chapter. Oh well, the people reading can suffer in suspense for another chapter," and so you're going to. :)_

_Until the next chapter, __Auf Wiedersehen, loves_


	3. Deterioration

**Disclaimer: I don't own Trauma Center, any of the characters in this fanfic (other than Dr. Schwehn and Nurse Krause, I suppose), all the same legal nonsense as before. Enjoy.**

_a/n: If I thought I was actually going to get anything done before classes picked back up, I was wrong --;; My apologies for making you guys wait so long for another update--there's bee a /lot/ of new shit going on over here, and I just haven't had the time (or even desire) to write these next chapters. But never fear; I'm back working on it :D_

_Sorry, no cookies as far as Dr. Schwehn's name goes--contrary to how it's spelled, it's actually pronounced "Swain" with more emphasis on the S than the W. I have my reasons _

_Thank you guys /so/ much for your reviews (and for taking the time to read this despite its typos and flaws x3 ); you're the only reasons why I'm still writing this. (I love this fanfic--I just suck at finishing things and this is no different, so I've got to have some reason to continue and there it is.) Let's put you guys out of your suspenseful misery._

--x--

"Pull yourself together, Angie. There are people out there that need you. You're not going to let them down. You're too strong for that."

Had bailing out been an option, she would've been willing to take it at the moment. How many lies could she keep feeding herself before she wouldn't accept them anymore? When would "continue on" fall out as an option, as well? Was this how it was all supposed to end?

The woman in the mirror shook her head violently, scattering the beads of sweat that had gathered on her face. She bit down on her bottom lip as she surveyed the damage. She was shaken more than she had ever been before; her hand was trembling as she pushed a set of limp bangs out of her face… "I look awful." Her eyes slowly shut as the hand sought out her neck, counting off the beats in her head. "…palpitations have subsided."

_Another nightmare like that will be the death of me._

A series of wailing beeps caused her heart to jump back into a frenzied rhythm as she jumped in surprise, eyes wide as she tried to make sense of the noise. Was it really five in the morning? It seemed so dark outside… _It's still November, isn't it? No wonder it's so dark out. _She pushed herself away from the mirror, locating her alarm clock with ease. It was a wonder she still remembered to set it with how bad her memory was starting to get, which she related to the amount (or lack thereof) of sleep she was getting.

Her feet carried her out of the bedroom and down the hallway, passing by an office with paperwork neatly scattered over the desk. Was she really that behind? Paperwork had never been an issue for her before. It was simple--mindless, even; yet she was still behind on it. With another shake of her head, she continued past it and turned into the kitchen. Half the makings for a cup of coffee lay abandoned on the counter from the previous morning. Seven months ago, she hadn't even /liked/ coffee. Seven months ago, life had been fine.

"_Angie! Why did you come here? It's not safe!"_

She picked up an empty mug, staring blankly at the inside of it.

"_You shouldn't have come here! I don't want you seeing me anymore!" He skittered backwards, glaring at her from the farthest wall of his room. "Get as far away from here as possible!"_

"_Derek…please!"_

_He dropped to his knees, bending his head to the floor as he began to cry. "I'm so scared…"Despite the yelling, she took a step toward him, instantly regretting it as his head snapped back up. "I said, go away!"_

_She closed the door slowly behind her before rushing away from the oppressing air in the west wing. None of the nurses seemed to have heard the conversation, and she didn't bother telling them._

"_Have a good day, Ms. Thompson," the secretary greeted her as she continued to her car, determined to hold it together until she got behind a locked door--_

The memory dispersed like smoke after a candle goes out when she realized with a start that the mug was no longer in her hands, but instead in shards on the kitchen tile. "Tch," she got out as she pulled herself back together, skirting the pile. It could wait until she got back from work--if she could even make it that far.

_At least I did what he told me to._

./

"Hello? Earth to Angie--are you even listening to me?"

At the question, her gaze snapped back up from the random spot on the carpet to the annoying blonde in question. "Sorry," she apologized quickly. "What were you saying again?" How was she supposed to listen to Tyler ramble on about some stupid thing whenever there were more important things on her mind?

Instead of launching back into the conversation, he simply shook her head. "Are you okay? You've been kind of spaced out lately." Actually, that was probably the understatement of the year at this point. As if it weren't bad enough that there was a problem--whatever it was seemed to be getting worse.

"I'm fine! Mind your own business," she snapped back at him.

He threw up his hands melodramatically. "Whoa, don't shoot!" His face grew serious after the joke, allowing his hands to drop back to his sides. "Seriously, Angie; if there's something bugging you, I'm all ears, alright? I care about your wellbeing."

The words seemed to have the opposite effect of what he was aiming for. "Find someone else to care about, because I won't have it," she spat back, storming out of the staff lounge. She didn't mean to be so angry, but what did /he/ know? She didn't have any problems--and even if she did, she could solve them by herself.

Wanting to get somewhere where there weren't people that cared, she stormed up the stairs, having no patience for the elevator. On the third floor, she hesitated slightly, gripping the railing as she slowly turned to look over her shoulder. No one seemed to be with her in the stairwell, but it felt... like someone /was/--someone she couldn't shake off.

The thought overpowered all other thoughts, causing her to shoot up the stairs. Her foot slid as she spun a turn on the landing of the fifth floor, sending her into a wall and onto the floor.

"_I'm so scared…"_

"_What are you scared of?"_

_At the statement, the situation completely changed. I braced myself for the yelling that would come whenever he replied--yet it never came. He raised his head, staring at me. "Isn't obvious? What do I have to be scared of?"_

_I hesitated._

"_I'm scared for you, Angie."_

_A shadow filled one corner of the room, engulfing me in darkness as I stared into it…_

…_a faint glow in the middle of the room, radiating from a tank in which the remains of a human floated…_

"_He's…"_

"_You aren't even alive?!" Derek asked incredulously from beside of me, free of the restraints in which I had last seen him._

"_Sins are born of my mortal flesh…and disperse into the world as GUILT. There, they are altered-- they prosper …In the end, they return to me." Adam spoke; or, a speaker spoke. It couldn't have been him speaking--wasn't he already dead? This was impossible!_

_My eyes widened as I tried to advert my eyes. "I can't even look at him…" But it turned into a lie as I continued to gawk as if it were a horrible car accident and I was just another driver, slowing down in order to survey the damage with a morbid curiosity._

"_Thus, I have become the last man. I live outside this world, so as not to taint it. I alone have achieved harmony. I know balance."_

_Harmony…_

_And I was back at Hope Hospital, responsibility weighing me down as I tried to put myself back together…_

"…_The ambulance brought him here as soon as they could…his heart isn't beating… I tried reviving him, but--"_

"Angie!"

"_What do I do…?! I need help! I… I…"_

"Angie!"

"…_D-Dr. Stiles…"_

"_The only person here who needs help is the patient… And we're the ones who are going to help him. It's up to us, and only us. We're going to save him. I can't do this without you, Angie. I want to save his life."_

"Damnit, Angie!" Tyler growled at the lack of a response, picking her up. Blood stood out in sharp contrast with her hair and with the white linoleum, coming from what seemed to be a small abrasion on the back of her head. "You never make things easy, do you?" he asked with a slight sigh before rushing back down the stairs with her in his arms.

This was entirely his fault. If he hadn't made her angry, she wouldn't have gone running for the stairs and hurt herself… What kind of friend was he? He owed Derek /so/ much, yet he couldn't even do the one thing that he asked of him…

_./_

"_I'll be going away for awhile, won't I?" Derek muttered quietly, more to the floor than to him. He appreciated the fact that he had taken the day off to help him make sure everything was in order at home, but that's what friends were for, weren't they? "Tyler!" he suddenly shouted, causing him to jump._

"_What's wrong?" Tyler asked as he stared back at his friend from his place on the couch._

"_I need you to do something else for me."_

"_Anything, bro," he replied._

"_I need you to take care of Angie for me. I know she can take care of herself… but please, make sure she's alright. Promise me you'll take care of her while I'm gone."_

_He nodded earnestly. "I promise I'll take care of Angie while you're gone."_

If only he knew how to protect her from herself.

--x--

_a/n: Did you see that one coming? :o_

_I'm aware of the fact that Angie didn't get a call from Dr. Schwehn about Derek--I suppose this chapter was set the day of "Relapse", so naturally the call wouldn't have come until the next day._

_Sorry for how choppy this chapter was, I needed to give it the right feeling. Hope it wasn't /too/ hard to keep track of._

_Until next time, Auf __Wiedersehen, loves._


	4. Folie à Deux

**Disclaimer: I don't own Trauma Center. (Do we even put these at the beginning of our fanfics anymore?)**

_a/n: …somehow, I think seven months is a bit extreme to be waiting on an update, especially a short one of poor quality; I apologize. If you are still ready despite these short comings, many thanks._

_I wish I had a better explanation for my hiatus than the fact that my world has been insanely changed in these past seven months, but… I suppose that one will have to work for now. (After reading back over the third chapter, I find my seven month hiatus quite ironic--it seems like Angie's life had been very different seven months ago as well.)_

_On a different note, I finally have the fourth chapter ready for reading. I hope you enjoy it!_

"**fo·lie à deux** (fô-lē' ä dɶ', fŏl'ē)  
n. A condition in which symptoms of a mental disorder, such as the same delusional beliefs or ideas, occur simultaneously in two individuals who share a close relationship or association."

--x--

"Dr. Chase."

If the comment had been any quieter, it wouldn't have been enough to rouse him from his thoughts. In his half-delirious state his attention focused on Angie, yet the part of his brain that determined the new voice to be male forced his gaze to the visitor who had the nerve to come in the room. "Director," he answered coolly, pulling himself back together.

The pause went unnoticed or purposefully ignored. "How long have you been sitting in here?"

Hesitation delayed Tyler's answer as he glanced to the clock on the wall. "…a while. Longer than I should have been." His voice cracked as he answered. What defined "too long" when this ordeal shouldn't have been going on at all? "I should have been more careful."

"There's no use dwelling on what you can't change."

He accepted the comment with a soft grunt. The gap that split the conversation was so long that the death of the conversation seemed undeniable, yet neither of them was willing to leave.

"What do you think?" Director Hoffman finally asked, taking Tyler's attention from the floor, which he had been staring at awkwardly to avoid looking at either of the people in the room.

"What do I think?" he repeated, turning away from him as he examined the various machines that were currently hooked up to the unconscious nurse. "Physically, Nurse Thompson is fine. The CAT scan showed no signs of an acute or hyper-acute sub-dural hematoma, and she was awake for a few minutes an hour ago with no signs of serious trauma from her fall. But, psychologically…that's a different story." He paused, looking back to the floor. "She wasn't lucid enough to recognize where she was or who was in the room with her when she was awake. Her delusional state, when matched to what happened to Dr. Stiles is… strikingly familiar. If things are to continue like they are… she won't be able to return to work, and will end up out of Caduceus within a month, maximum."

He listened intently to the prognosis, the wrinkles in his forehead broadened as he analyzed the words. "We're going to have to keep a close eye on her, then. While the similarities aren't to be ignored, we can't decide anything for another few weeks. Thank you, Dr. Chase. Go home and get some sleep."

"Leave?" he exclaimed, bewildered. "I can't leave now, Director. I… I promised Derek that I'd watch out for Angie, and what kind of friend would I be if I left now?"

The seriousness in Director Hoffman's eyes softened slightly, though his features still retained their inflexibility. "I understand what this means to you, but that was an order, not a suggestion. Caduceus USA doesn't need any more of its staff inert. Go home, get a good night's sleep, and come back tomorrow morning. Nothing is going to happen that we can't handle."

It took a moment of delay before Tyler realized that staying in the recovery room was no longer an option, and he begrudgingly stood and left Director Hoffman alone in the room.

"Nurse Thompson and Dr. Stiles…" he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he pushed his hands into his pockets and turned to follow the younger doctor out. "What am I going to do with you?"

_./_

_I could not remember a darker scene. Derek had been shouting beside me just a minute ago and Dr. Miller had been following close behind… Yet, where were they in this abyss? Fear paralyzed me as I could feel my limbs getting heavier and stiffer. If I was really alone, what had happened to them?_

"_Can you not see it? I am dead, yet I still live. This is the true fate of mankind."_

_Adam's voice drifted softly through my head, pushing out all of my previous thoughts. How had he managed to isolate me?_

"_You can't be serious! People always have the potential to be good, as long as they live… What makes you think you can throw that away? I became a nurse so that I could assist people that are hurting and in pain… You're suggesting madness! I don't care how many people buy into your lies, you will never be able to keep mankind from helping each other!"_

_Silence roared in my ears, threatening to deafen me. "What do you have to say to that, coward?" The words rasped in my dry throat, producing a fit of coughing. "Give it up; you're dead! Our raid on this ship ended your sick, twisted dreams! As soon as we're finished, there will be nothing left!"_

_My heart began beating slower as the darkness pushed me to the floor and permeated the last of my conscious mind. "No," he whispered, and I could almost feel the hot breath on my ear. "I will always live on in the minds of those who followed me… and in your mind. I am apart of every one of you, and its useless trying to run from yourself."_

_With the last of my energy, I tried to scream, but my lungs could only push out a soft breath before the darkness fully engulfed me, and I felt myself drifting further and further away…_

_./_

"Ah!" Leslie yelped at the sound of a bloodcurdling scream, digging her fingernails into the chair she was sitting on. In an attempt to help Tyler, she had been sitting in Angie's room since her shift had ended, making sure that nothing else happened. And, spare the second scream in thirty minutes and thrashing around in a manner that almost merited the attention of a grand mal seizure, Angie was more or less lifeless and lost within herself.

_I don't see how Tyler was able to sit here for longer than fifteen minutes, _she thought bitterly, rubbing her temples. Screaming aside, it was hard to watch a friend that had been so held together falling apart. Her hand gingerly touched the exposed skin of her upper arm, pulling back when she jerked away from the light brush. _I wonder what she's thinking about._

She didn't have any time to ponder the thought before she was disturbed by the polyphonic cry of a buried cell phone. It took a bit of shuffling through Angie's belongings before she located it. The number was unfamiliar, and for fear of meddling in Angie's personal life, she let it go to voicemail.

"_You have one unheard message. First unheard message:_

_"Good afternoon, Ms. Thompson. My name is Dr. Schwehn of the Angeles Bay Asylum for the Mentally Unstable, and I'm calling on behalf of a patient you may be familiar with, by the name of Derek Stiles… Please call me back at this number as soon as possible."_

"Well, I don't know if that was the best or the worst timing," she muttered to herself, closing the phone. "I shouldn't be answering Angie's calls. Whenever this is over, she can wrap everything up herself…"

But, was this ever going to be over? Only time could tell…

--x

Time ruled against the hopes of Caduceus' staff. Within two weeks, a folder with Angie's medical records ended up on Dr. Schwehn's desk from Dr. Simmons with a note about how he wished to distance himself from everything related to the Stiles' case. And, from the notes that he had gathered on her so far, it was easy to see how close the two cases were. The symptoms were near identical, which helped him to predict what was going to happen. Yet, there was one thing that had yet to be explored…

"Doctor… you're not planning on…" Nurse Krause stuttered slightly, leaning against the doorframe of his office. "I'm not trying to question your decision, but… how can you think any good can come from putting them together? If this case really is a repeat of Mr. Stiles' case when he was first admitted, Ms. Thompson isn't going to recognize him. Do you know what that could do to him?"

"I'd like to think I have a better idea of what would happen to my patient than you. Yes, we could risk another relapse… but right now, we don't have a choice. His current mental state is deteriorating faster than we can do anything to keep up with." Dr. Schwehn's gaze burned into Nurse Krause's. "Now, are you going to bring him to my office, or am I going to have to ask Ms. Vang for directions to his room and get him myself?"

With a sigh, she pushed herself off the doorframe and headed in the direction of the West Wing.

--x

"_Do you honestly think you can escape yourself?"_

Derek squeezed his eyes shut, pulling his knees up to his chest. "Adam… You can't control me… You aren't apart of me…"

"_I continue to live on through you. Why do you insist on hiding your true nature? I could make you powerful, and you could work for the greater good of nature… I'm offering you an opportunity to turn away from your deceit, to stand like an angel before the abyss of the end of all life…"_

"Shut up!" he screamed, shocking himself with the sudden volume increase. It was enough to get the conversation to stop, with good timing, seeing as Nurse Krause walked through the door several moments later.

"Ah, Derek… you're awake. Come on, it's time for you to go see Dr. Schwehn," she spoke calmly, giving no indication that she had heard him yelling. "I don't want you to be worried, but I fear that things are going to be a bit… different today."

Even though it had been the opposite of her intent, the thought of his appointment being different enough to merit worry caused him to instantly become alarmed. "Why is it going to be different? Did… Did I do something wrong?" he asked softly while staring intently at the floor.

"Derek, you didn't do anything wrong. Dr. Schwehn just thinks there's something you should know about," she replied slowly, pulling the door to his room shut. "Try not to dwell on it. Just… remember that everyone has your best interests at heart." The puzzled look remained on his face, but he straightened his back and raised his head all the same.

It was amazing how foreign even the most familiar places could feel when isolated with the thought of how things could change in an instant. The dark hallway with the flickering light bulb, the great doors that separated good and evil, the beautiful skylight ceiling in the spacious lobby… What if this change altered the way he saw everything in "The Asylum"?

Such thoughts took front and center in his head as he walked down the East Wing hall. Even the retreat of the patients at the sight of him, which usually burned and frustrated him, wasn't enough to deter him. It wasn't until he was sitting down on the stained chair in the mint-coloured office that he visited every other day that his thoughts dissipated, and he looked to Dr. Schwehn with a jittery nervousness that quickly forced his attention to something else.

"Ah, good afternoon, Derek. You seem alarmed… is something wrong?" Dr. Schwehn questioned, folding his hands on top of the two files on his desk. "Was it something that happened before Nurse Krause came to get you, or did she say something upsetting…?"

"What are you planning on doing? Am I being transferred back to Dr. Simmons, or Dr. Freeman? Does something have to be changed because of something I did? What was it that you thought I needed to know?" he queried hastily, rushing like an impatient, little kid who wanted to know what was up.

He shook his head at the flurry of questions, standing up. "No, it's nothing like that, Derek… I don't know what she told you, but if you'll follow me, I think everything can be cleared up."

His desire to get to the bottom of things drove him out of the office after his psychiatrist, and back down the open cheerfully painted East Wing. "Doctor, where are we going?" he spoke anxiously as worry shadowed his face as they reached the lobby.

"I understand that you probably haven't been in here before…"

The area in question was a hallway beside the doors to the West Wing that he hadn't even known existed in all his time at The Asylum. There were no cheerfully painted walls amongst the oppressing grey that had been thrown on some time ago and desperately needed a fresh coat. "Where is 'here'?"

"This is the Visitor's Hall… People with loved ones in the West Wing can come here to visit them as opposed to visiting them in their rooms."

He opened his mouth to ask why they were walking down there, but closed it again as Dr. Schwehn lead him into the last room on the right. The room was large and divided by a wooden table bolted to the ground. "I'm going to wait outside," he spoke before exiting the room and closing the door, but Derek barely heard it close.

The chair that was on his side of the table was rather comfortable, but he preferred the old one in Dr. Schwehn's office. _How does he expect me to open the door if I'm still in a strait jacket? _Any answers that came to his head quickly scattered as a door on the other side of the room opened. One of the nurses from the West Wing that he wasn't familiar with led a sluggish and reluctant patient into the room, making sure she sat down before quickly departing.

There was silence as Derek peered over his dirty glasses, trying to put a face to the new visitor. He gasped as she raised her head, causing him to blink rapidly as he tried to make sense of the situation.

"…Angie?"

--x--

_a/n: Ach, so OOC._

_I'm sorry about how short this chapter is, but at least it's something!_

_And despite what I've said prior, by the end of this chapter, I actually have a plausible direction, so updates will not be far and between._

_Let me know what you think. You and my love of this fanfic are the only things keeping me going :)_

_Auf Wiedersehen, loves!_


	5. Verisimilitude

_a/n: You know it's been a long time since you've been on to update your fanfiction when you can barely remember your login info._

…_well, this isn't seven months, but I don't think six is much better. At least I know exactly where it is I'm going. I've been delayed by MASSIVE writer's block (and probably a little bit of laziness.)_

_Sorry for leaving you guys on such a cliffhanger last time. I was worried about how it would be accepted (although not as much as the chapters later to come; I'll admit, some of this stuff is going to be a huge… stretch; but then again, Trauma Center itself is a huge stretch. Bear with me), but you guys seemed happy enough to kick-start the next chain of events :)_

_Here's chapter five!_

"**ver⋅i⋅si⋅mil⋅i⋅tude** (věr'ə-sĭ-mĭl'ĭ-tōōd', -tyōōd')

n. Something, as an assertion, having merely the appearance of truth."

--x--

Silence.

The stream of words that had rushed from his head now sat lodged uncomfortably in his throat like an oversized glob of bubble gum from his youth. His attempts at dislodging the new barrier failed as he swallowed hard and opened his mouth, willing everything to come spilling out. "Angie?" he finally repeated, his voice cracking slightly over her name.

There was as little reaction as before to her name being repeated, and he hesitated as he wondered if he should risk a third try. Then, a twitch--followed by a whimper so soft and barely audible he wondered if he had just imagined it. "Please… don't talk to me."

…_she doesn't want me to talk to her? _His mind was as blank as his expression as he stared at her, blinking hard as he tried to figure it out. "Angie, it's me: Derek. Why are you here?" In all of his excitement to see her, he had completely forgotten one of the most apparent problems: why was Angie in the Asylum, wearing a strait jacket and acting much like he used to before she had visited him that first time?

"Derek…" The name flowed slowly as she took time to muse over it. There should have been some comforts in finding someone that knew her, yet all of it seemed lost with her next comment. "…Adam warned me about you." She raised her head timidly, though her glare held the ferocity that her voice had lost. "He told me you've done a great deal more bad than good in your life."

His whole body tensed as his eyes grew wide. "…bad?" he whispered, choking over the word. Rage welled up inside his chest, and if it hadn't been for his strait jacket, he might have slammed his fists down on the table in front of him. "He told you I was the bad guy?!" She flinched away from him, and he quickly forced himself to calm down. "…I'm sorry, Angie. Please, listen to me. Do you remember anything before you came here--to the Asylum?"

No response. Her hair fell lifelessly in front of her face again as she looked to the ground, crossing her ankles and looking uncomfortable in the cramped room with this loud, new company.

"Alright…" he trailed off, rethinking his approach. "I'll fill you in. Adam has done nothing but lie to you."

"I know," she cut him off, though it felt like she was speaking to the floor. "Adam doesn't seem to be a good man, either. But… he's all that's left. I don't understand it. Why me? What did I do to deserve this?!" Her final comment came with a surprising amount of anger, but the volume level seemed to drain whatever spark had caused the sudden burst of emotion. Deadpan, she continued to eye the ground.

He repressed the urge to flinch away like she had only moments before. "Angie," he addressed, calm but firm, "You didn't do anything wrong. Before you came here… you were one of the best nurses in the world--you were _my _nurse. Together, we fought all of the evils that Adam stood for, and ended up saving a lot of people." He paused awkwardly, caught up in the passion of repeating the borrowed memories that had sustained him for so many months. "We can't stop now. That's the only thing left: fighting him, just like we used to. You were the one who taught me that."

Her silence caused him to wonder if she had been inspired by his words, or if everything had passed right over her head. "It's never that easy."

No words or ideas to combat the idea sprung to mind, and the conversation lulled to a dead stop. They had come full circle, and now, staring just as blankly at her as he had at the beginning, he was suddenly aware of how oppressing the lack of color was in the room and how scared everything made him.

Quietly, the door on Angie's side of the room swung open, revealing the same, cheerful nurse as before. "Ready to go, Angie?" she asked quietly, being answered by Angie's quick rise and awkward shuffle to the exit.

"Wait!"

Both heads turned to look at Derek, who had also gotten up from his seat. "Angie… Don't give in, alright? I'm fighting with you. We're going to get through this--together."

She either had no desire to respond or anything to respond with, and the nurse smiled at Derek like an adult at children's nonsense before leading her out of the room. He slumped back down in the chair as the door closed, leaving him alone. Was this why Angie had stopped visiting him?

"Come on, Derek. No use sitting in an empty room." He was roused from his thoughts and slowly got out of the chair, bogged down by speed at which his brain was firing things off. "…let's get you back to your room." The physiatrist's voice barely reached him through the fog that had settled during the silence of the conversation, but it was somehow loud enough to motivate him out of the room and back down the hall.

Dr. Schwehn slowed his step to the zombie-like pace that Derek set, staring intently at him as they walked. "I can understand if you're upset with me for setting that up, but I thought you might want to talk to her."

He shook his head. "…I'm mad, but it isn't at you. Angie…" There was some hesitation with his answer. He wanted to be as far from that room as possible, but surely that was what Angie had thought the first time she visited him. "I want to talk to her again. Please, doctor. She helped me whenever I was almost ready to give up, and I'd be horrible if I didn't help her now that she needs it."

The answer seemed to please both of them, and Dr. Schwehn smiled as his determination spurred a burst of confidence and a quicker gait. "I think that's a very noble plan, Derek. If you want, I could arrange for you two to talk more often, but I must warn you that I can't guarantee when these will be. Ms. Thompson… isn't exactly the most lucid at times."

"I can wait." They paused outside the door of his room, and he quickly walked inside whenever it was unlocked. "Bye, Dr. Schwehn."

"Good bye, Derek."

--x

Some things were easier said than done.

"_It's inevitable, Derek…"_

He closed his eyes, biting down on his lip as if the force would be enough to keep him from screaming. Seeing Angie again, even if she was in the same predicament as him, had been enough to curtail and in some respects heal his latest relapse, but now… reality was finally starting to sink in. How could he help Angie get better if he no longer had anyone to keep him from getting worse?

"_Do you see? I am everywhere, in everyone… You cannot escape your true nature."_

His legs failed him and he fell to his knees, barely feeling the contact with the hard tile that would surely leave him bruises tomorrow morning.

"Leave me alone…" he growled, glaring at the floor. The light overhead beamed hot on the back of his neck, matching the flush that warmed his face. "You have no place here. You're just… a fabrication… from a memory." The low words were vaguely reminiscent of what he had heard so many times from the nurses at the beginning of his stay at the Angeles Bay Asylum. "You don't exist."

There was silence, and he risked a grin. _"No," _Adam corrected him, churning his stomach as he fell forward with a dull thud. _"I still exist… because of you."_

Nausea washed over him, threatening to bring up his lunch. His body trembled as he broke out into a cold sweat, shivering as his temperature plunged like a rollercoaster on a series of hills. He rolled onto his side, pressing his cheek against the cold floor. He knew that, mentally, there were issues… but was his physical health finally starting to deteriorate, as well? _Get a hold of yourself, Derek. Your mind is just playing tricks on you. _His heart beat reassuringly in his ear, impervious to the sudden symptoms.

"…Derek?"

At Nurse Krause's concerned voice, he shakily forced himself to his feet. "Y-yes?" he stuttered, hesitantly meeting her gaze as if afraid of what he would find. _She doesn't need to think that there's anything wrong with me. If she thinks there's something wrong with me, she might go tell Dr. Schwehn, and then I'll never get to see Angie…_

"Are you feeling alright? You look really pale…" She frowned, stepping forward while simultaneously examining him with her gaze. "I was told to take you to visit Angie, but if you aren't feeling well enough to do that, I could take you down to the infirmary…"

The comments, exactly what he had feared, forced him to straighten up and put on a confident face. "I'm feeling fine, Nurse Krause. Can I please go see Angie? I don't know if I can wait any longer. It feels like I haven't seen her in… a long time."

She paused, debating over her answer. "…I guess it wouldn't hurt to let you see her for a little bit. I'm taking you to the infirmary if you still don't look very well whenever I come back to get you, okay?" Happy over the terms, Derek nodded with a wide grin. "Alright, come on. Let's not keep her waiting."

They walked out of his room at a pace that was both too fast and too slow. "Is she doing any better since the last time I talked to her?" he asked anxiously, frowning when he didn't receive an answer automatically. "…or… is she doing worse?"

"She's… it depends. She's a lot like whenever you first came here." Discouraged by the answer, he hung his head. "N-no, don't get me wrong. She's doing better today." There was little reassurance in the answer, and silence filled the gap between them as they stepped over the divide and into the lobby. Rain dashed itself against the skylight, blurring his view of the heavens. Was the storm a forewarning to the storm waiting behind the doors of the last visiting room on the right? _Now you're reading too deeply into things._

The door to said room was thrown open to silence and emptiness, revealing it to have been left exactly the way it had been two months prior. "She isn't here yet," he finally commented, not sure whether he should be relieved or worried. "I will get to see her, right?" Nurse Krause nodded before ushering him into the room and reassuring him that the wait wouldn't be long. A soft click was the only notice he got to the door being closed again, and all the nervousness and anxiety from the last visit rushed back to greet him as he sat down.

_What if Nurse Krause lied to me, and she really is getting a lot worse? What… what if I can't help her? _Desperately, he shook his heads and tried to discard the worry. _No, I'm definitely going to be able to help her! _As confident as the thoughts were, now that the seed of doubt had been planted in his heart, he couldn't shake it off.

His heart sped into a frantic rhythm when he noticed the handle of the door on the other side turning, moments later opening to the sight of the woman that he had been waiting on. "Angie!" he cried cheerfully, barely perturbed whenever his greeting was more or less ignored. "I missed you. How have you been holding up?"

Awkward silence met him as she once again avoided eye-contact and sat uncomfortably in the chair across the table. "…I didn't want to see you again." Her answer caught him off guard, and his expression turned incredulous. "You… complicate things. You make my life harder."

"I make your life harder?" he repeated, the hurt unmistakable in his voice. "What happened, Angie? What did I do?"

"You…" she trailed off, finally looking up to glare at him. "You just need to stay away from me! I can't stand you!" His inability to form a coherent thing to throw back only encouraged more of her outburst. "The time after you talked to me, Adam wouldn't leave me alone… it was horrible… and it was all your fault!"

"The only reason Adam wouldn't leave you alone is because you saw the truth! You saw that he was a liar!" he finally countered, pushing the depression that her comments had inspired to the back of his mind. "You can't just live in this shadow forever… It's either you face him now and end it, or you never throw him off."

Angie rolled her eyes, gritting her teeth together. "Why should I believe you? If facing him worked, you wouldn't be here in the same position I am. Look at you! You still wear a strait jacket; you still live in the West Wing... You're mad, like everyone else here! You have no idea what you're talking about!"

He shook his head violently, leaning forward in his seat. "No… don't say that! Do you think you're just supposed to curl up and feel sorry for yourself?" Sternly, like a teacher sick of students' nonsense, he met her angry stare. "You'll be even worse off if you do that. Yes, look at me. I've been living in the West Wing for over two years now. Two years of being subjugated by something little more than a figment of my imagination… But you changed that." He paused, features softening. "You showed me that I could be strong. You helped me get better."

No response. "Don't you see, Angie? I leave the West Wing every other day, and I look to the skylights in the lobby -- have you ever noticed them? There's a world outside here, just beyond our grasp… We could leave here; we could leave Adam behind--"

"That world is always going to be beyond our grasp. Adam…" she trailed off, shaking her head. "Adam isn't leaving. We can't leave him. He's… he's always there…" The anger flared down for a brief moment, and it was then that he glimpsed what it was a front for--she was scared. "I can't run away if he's part of me."

"He doesn't have to be part of you," Derek pointed out quietly, scooting to the edge of the chair. "It might be difficult at first, but it isn't impossible. This doesn't have to be the end. We can still fight. We can always fight. We can fight just like we used to."

She sighed softly, closing her eyes. "I don't know if I can fight any more, Derek." It seemed as though things were finally calmed down, but her eyes flew open suddenly as she jumped out of her chair, panicked like an animal trapped in a corner. "No! I don't want to hear it!"

"Angie?" he asked hesitantly, rising from his chair as well. "You don't want to hear what? Is… is Adam trying to talk to you?"

"Don't talk to me!" she shrieked, skittering backwards until she hit the wall on her side of the room. "Get out of here! I never want to talk to you again!" Once again, her sudden anger was directed toward him, confusing him even more than the first few mood swings. "You're lying… There is nothing beyond this. Why do you torture me like this?" Her eyes filled with tears, and all he could do was stare slack-jawed.

"T-torture? Angie, I would never torture you…" he stepped closer to the table, completely lost. "Please, Angie, listen to me!"

There was no comfort from his words, and the tears that had gathered spilled out and over her cheeks. "I n-never wanted this… I never wanted you to come in and make things worse… Why can't you just leave me alone? I-I… I'm never going to get better. I'm only going to get worse."

They were interrupted as the door swung open on her side of the room, the nurse no doubt having been disturbed by all of the shouting. "Come on Angie, let's get you back to your room," she murmured softly, glaring at Derek before putting her arm around the sobbing woman and leading her slowly out of the room.

Defeated, Derek slumped back down in his chair. _Great job helping her, Stiles. You should become a therapist. Maybe you could wreck the masses, too. _He squeezed his eyes shut, waves of hopelessness washing over him.

The door opened noiselessly, not even enough to rouse him from his thoughts. "Derek…" He jumped at Nurse Krause's touch, forcing himself to his feet. "…do you want to go talk to Dr. Schwehn?"

"No," he replied coldly. "I want to go back to my room." She obliged and led him wordlessly back to the West Wing, making no attempts to sympathize with him. It wouldn't have mattered--any conversation would have been met with silence. He looked forlornly to the skylights, depressed by the storm clouds that blocked all natural light. "…I don't think she wants me to talk to her ever again."

"…maybe she just needs a little bit of time?" she suggested, getting a lifeless shrug in reply. He stepped inside his room after she had unlocked it, turning his back on her. "Goodnight, Derek," she muttered quietly, leaving him alone.

"Angie…" he whispered to the ground, clenching his eyes closed in fear that he might start crying. "I failed you."

"_There was nothing you could have done… she has seen the truth; she cannot be swayed by your foolish talks of nonsense. She knows what is real… Can you not see it for yourself?"_ His eyes shot back open as his whole body tensed. _"These lies are your GUILT…"_

Anger, hatred, rage… Emotion welled up inside his body as the voice whispered to him, infuriating every fiber of his being. He trembled with the force of them. _"She… is your GUILT…" _Suddenly, he threw his head backward, filling the quiet air with a bloodcurdling scream.

"NO!" he shrieked, spinning around and kicking the first thing he saw: the metal bed that had cradled him selflessly since his first night in the room. Its sturdy frame barely gave, staying rooted to the ground by sturdy bolts. His foot pulled back again, delivering another kick. The metal caused a dull ache in his foot, but it was quickly overwhelmed by the rage that drove him against the wall.

He flew at the wall again, struggling against his strait jacket as he bounced back. The desperate plight caused his glasses to fall from his face, bouncing to land a few feet from him. "What have you done to her, Adam?! What have you done?" Panting, he backed against the wall one last time, sliding to the floor. "What have _I_ done?" Blood roared in his ears as he slumped forward, wetting the floor with hot, angry tears. "I… I…"

"_Derek..." _The voice was as calm and gentle as it was before, though there was no fury inspired by it this time. _"Do not fight it anymore. Become one with us, and know the real truth…"_

"I couldn't help her…" His voice rasped in his throat like he was thirty years older, and he closed his eyes wearily. "She was stronger than me, and yet she fell…" Deep in thought, he sighed quietly. "Adam… You bastard… I…" Slowly, he opened his eyes and tried to get to his feet again, watching the room spin around him. "I give up."

"_Then, child, receive my knowledge, the final GUILT… and know true Bliss."_

Heavy, weighed down by the force of a broken soul and the same sick feeling as before, he crashed back to the ground. "Bliss…" he muttered, staring at the leg of the bed he had abused just moments before. Black edged his vision, but he couldn't help smirking bitterly as a dark force wrapped itself around his heart. _It looks like Angie will finally get her wish._

--x

"Dr. Schwehn!"

The voice was filled terror, and instantly caused him to jump out of his chair and run to the door with the speed of a man much younger. "Calm down, Jennyth. What's wrong?" He attempted to usher the nurse into his office, but she stood her ground and refused to move.

"M-Mr. Stiles. Nurse Baker went to check on him because it sounded like he was having another episode, and he was just lying there with no pulse--we revived him but he's crashing fast and we need permission to transfer him to Caduceus USA. This isn't something we're equipped to handle," Nurse Krause spoke quickly, shaking with the speed of the words. "Now, Dr. Schwehn. We need permission _now._"

Dumbstruck, he took a moment to process what she had just said. "W-what?! Yes, transfer him to Caduceus USA, posthaste. What happened--?"

As soon as she got the permission, she rushed away as quickly as she had rushed to his office, leaving him speechless in shock. _What could have happened? _He shook his head, retreating back in his office. "You can't abandon your other patients, Glenn," he spoke aloud, walking slowly back to his desk. _I'll have to make sure they keep me posted._

He hesitated at the chair, turning to look out the window at the strengthening weather. "It looks like we're in for a long storm."

--x--

_a/n: I'd be lying if I said this chapter wasn't fun to write. Very OOC and bipolar, but fun nonetheless. I'm sure you guys can guess what's going to happen… but I haven't put everything on the table just yet :) One more chapter, and then Striving toward "Tomorrow" will finally reach its concluding chapter. (I never thought I'd be able to wrap this up in seven chapters…)_

_Until next time, auf wiedersehen, loves._


	6. Finality

_a/n: I suppose I was a little discouraged whenever I re-read the last chapter. Taking a second look at it revealed how unintentionally repetitive it ended up, and it really wasn't up to par with what I had been expecting it to be._

_The best part about these things is that you can always redeem yourself. There's no point in sulking over a little disappointment--I am going to finish this fanfic. I can't stop when there are only two chapters left!_

_Here's the second to last chapter, then. Enjoy!_

--x--

"I hardly need to remind you of the gravity of the situation, Director."

Sidney shifted his weight from foot to foot. It was amazing how quickly something could turn south. What had started out as a slow, quiet night for Caduceus USA became something twisted and nightmarish, leaving the whole hospital on alert. All things considered, the situation in which they had found themselves should have been impossible--but there was no point in arguing over the "impossibility" of a situation when it had clearly happened.

Director Hoffman cautiously surveyed the man in front of him. "I'm aware of the facts, Dr. Kasal. What I would like to know is what exactly you're asking of me. We both know what call needs to be made; I would have expected you to have acted on it already." There was an uncomfortable pause in the conversation, and he leaned forward in his chair. "I think I already have some idea of what it is you came here for. You would like me to oversee the operation, wouldn't you?"

"…yes." He frowned, pushing his glasses up his nose. "There's no question at this point as to whether or not there should be an operation. Dr. Clarks is an able surgeon with experience treating GUILT, but… everyone would feel more at ease if you were there, as well. You haven't lost your touch; your support during the airborne outbreak was testament of that."

For a moment, he wondered if he had been overstepping his boundaries in coming to ask this of the Head Director. Surgery had always been somewhat of a touchy subject, but surely this merited-- "Alright, if that is what everyone wants," Dr. Hoffman agreed, rising from his seat. "Has the O.R. been prepped?"

Though it was muted to what was almost inaudibility, he let out a relieved sigh. "I'll go ahead and make sure they have. Thank you, Director."

--x

Why?

Tyler had been running the word through his head for the better part of thirty minutes. Why Derek? Why GUILT? Why _now_? There was no way to make a logical answer for any of the questions with what he had to work with--too many holes, pieces of the puzzle that he would probably have no hope of finding…

He stared blankly through the window into the room Derek had been temporarily moved into. Standing on the outside and looking in wasn't exactly the ideal role for a best friend, but he knew even if he was beside him, something still wouldn't be right. There was a surreal quality to the situation that gave it the feel and appearance of being nothing more than a bad dream, but if escaping was just as easy as waking up, it would have already dissipated.

"They're on their way to move him into surgery."

Slowly, he forced himself to turn his head to look at the nurse who had spoken to him. "I figured they wouldn't let him sit for very long. Is Dr. Clarks going to be performing the surgery?"

Nurse Sears nodded. "Yeah, Dr. Clarks is performing the surgery. You won't believe it, though--Director Hoffman is going to be in there as a supporting surgeon. Director Kasal somehow got him to agree to oversee the operation." Considering how little the doctor operated, the feat obviously managed to surprise her.

"I could believe it," Tyler spoke dully, turning away from her so that he could resume watching the room. His eyes drifted toward the various monitors Derek had been hooked up to. The numbers indicated that he was stable for the time being, but barely. How much longer could they hold? "They're just taking as many precautions as possible. Maybe Derek isn't part of the staff here anymore… but I don't think anyone could stand to lose him." _I know I couldn't._

She shook her head, following his gaze into the room. It was short lived, and she turned as if getting ready to walk away.

"…it's going to be okay, Tyler." She placed her hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. "I know you're really upset right now… but you should try to stay positive, even if it's difficult. Everyone is doing what they can right now, and for some that's all they can do. It would help, I promise."

A small, pensive smile tugged at the sides of his mouth as she released her grip. "I guess you're right… Thanks, Les. I'll see you in the observation room?"

"Meet you there."

As quickly as she had appeared, she disappeared and left Tyler once again standing alone outside of Derek's room. The smile that Leslie had managed to pull from him faded into a hard-set frown. While her words had truth to them and her intentions were good, how was he supposed to be any sort of positive whenever his best friend was dying?

"You better be fighting," he murmured through the glass, knowing full well that there was no way Derek could hear him. "You better be fighting like your life depends on it."

--x

"'_I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands.' He set off and went to his father. But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him."_

Derek swallowed hard against the knot in his throat. He was familiar with the scripture: the parable of the prodigal son. How could something that had sounded so holy in his youth become so twisted and perverse?

"'_The son said to him, 'Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.' But the father said to his slaves, 'Quickly, bring out a robe -- the best one -- and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. And get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate; for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found…'"_

A hollow feeling gnawed inside his chest, impervious to even the reassuring, rhythmic contractions of his heart. Something vital whose residence lay in his torso had been forcibly removed, leaving a gaping hole where substance should have been. He had succumbed to his humanity, the horrible truth within every soul…

"_And now I welcome you, my prodigal son." Adam's voice rang from the darkness. "He who was dead has come to life; he who was lost has been found."_

"It cost something to 'live'," he muttered quietly, his voice dry and emotionless. "Death seemed so… vivid. It was a beautiful façade. I never knew deception could be so lovely." His eyes closed slowly, and he wondered for a moment what had been so pleasing. Everything seemed so out of focus… There had been beauty in a woman, the name of whose he must have long forgotten…

Adam's presence lingered by his side, guiding him through the overpowering darkness. _"Their 'beauty' is nothing more than a falsehood. The offenses of your nature are nothing compared to the awe of the truth… It blinds the eyes of the sinner, seals the lips of those who would prophesize deceit… And now, it is your truth to accept."_

A finger gently raked a fine line down his bare chest. It was a painless caress, and the darkness he was surrounded by seemed to clear into a more manageable shade, though he could not for the life of him note the light source. The area around the line was numb, but when he brought his own hand up to cover it, he could feel blood seeping through his fingers. He instantly pulled back, attempting to examine the hot, sticky fluid in the newfound light. The sharp contrast of crimson against his pale skin was harsh. Had his hands always been that pale?

"_You may join the congregation of the believers; we are the one true life, united by Bliss… There is no point in mourning for those whom you have ascended. The doctors of Caduceus will see their folly when Delphi rises to its proper home…"_

"Caduceus…" Why did that name sound so familiar to him? His mind drifted through the possibilities. There was a building, imposing in its stature and towering many stories above his head… Had there been some sort of organization secluded within the walls? Had he once been part of the strange association?

A new voice greeted his ears, bringing back a hazy memory. _"Welcome to Caduceus USA, Derek. It's nice to meet you. I'm Sidney Kasal, the Director of US Operations. My brother's told me a lot about you. I'm glad you decided to accept our offer."_ His mind reeled. How could he fabricate something that sounded so believable?

"_Derek?! No way. No way! You seriously work here now? Man, I heard 'em say the new guy's name was Stiles, but… This rocks! I didn't think you were adventurous enough to join Caduceus!"_ Another voice, familiar in its cheerful tone…

"Oh God," he moaned, covering his eyes and dropping to his knees. "Oh God!" The horror of what he had done crashed violently down on him. Sidney Kasal, Tyler Chase, Angela Thompson… He had betrayed everyone at Caduceus USA, the colleagues he had forgotten in those long years while he was at the Angeles Bay Asylum.

Adam hovered over him, watching his suffering with a cold indifference. _"Though I walk through the shadow of the valley of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me…"_

"No… shut up," Derek whimpered, slamming his hands on the ground. He could feel the stain of blood on his face, clinging to his face like a disfiguring scar. "Shut up, shut up…"

"_But the GUILT inside me is unlike anything you've seen… Now that the Savato is completed, this facility means nothing… So, I'm ending it all… before Delphi can… Go…! A pathetic sinner like me isn't… worth saving… You cannot defeat Death. It is not of this world." _He could remember Professor Blackwell's operation--how strongly he had wanted death and how strongly Angie wanted him to live.

"…_I saw a lot of my father's back. I can still see him sitting at his desk in the study… If I tried to speak with him, he'd say that he was too busy. His own daughter… and he wouldn't even turn around to face me… And then he left us. He turned his back on us once and for all. Was this what he left us for? Was this worth abandoning his own family?!"_

She would have been furious with him. He was abandoning her, just as Professor Blackwell had--and for the same reason! Derek clenched his teeth, smacking the ground furiously with his dirty hand. The movement caused blood from his wound to drip to the floor, forming smaller stains beneath him. What had been painless before stung with a force he had not known possible, and had his anger not overwhelmed his nerves, he might have tried to escape it.

"Adam…" he growled, slowly rising to his feet. "You… bastard!" These had been his memories, and the idea that something as pure and sacred as them had been violated and almost destroyed--he had never known one person could contain so much hatred. "Where the hell are you?!" His hair stuck to the bloody mask covering half of his face, obscuring his vision. "I'll… I'll kill you! I'll make you wish you never had the misfortune of knowing what it was like to be part of this world!"

"_You cannot punish those who have already passed on… Your hubris turns your eyes away from the truth that you have been given freely. It is foolish to deny the only thing that could save you from your ignorant ways…"_

He whipped his head around, a look of desperation flashing through his eyes as he noticed the world around him slowly fading into the darkness he had started from. "No!" he shouted out, balling his hands into fists. "The only thing that can save me… is killing you! I joined Caduceus to eradicate disease… I can finally see it now. You are the last GUILT--my GUILT… I'm putting an end to this, once and for all!"

Spare the sound of his heavy breathing, all was silent. _"If you destroy me, you destroy yourself," _Adam finally replied, sending a small chill down his back. _"I am part of you… We thrive because of our lovely symbiosis. One cannot live without the other."_

"Then let me die," he spat, suddenly charging at the figure he had noticed out of the corner of his eye. "Death would be heaven compared to the hell you've put me through! I would die a thousand times if it meant destroying you once and for all!"

If Adam had been beside of him, he had quickly disappeared. "I'm not afraid of death," Derek spoke confidently, a sick grin plastered on his face. "Are you afraid, Adam? Are you a _coward_? What a _stupid_ excuse for a leader." He swayed in place, dizzy from blood loss. "Are you afraid of the hell that waits for you?"

Silence roared in his ears, and he took a few steps toward the faint glow that had appeared in the room. He quickly recognized his new surroundings: the stomach of the ship where he had first met Adam. The dead man's remains floated in the bright tank, and for a moment he felt the same pang of terror he had when he had first stepped into the room with Angie and Director Miller.

There were no obvious wires supporting the life in the tank. "Damnit, Adam!" he shouted, more or less throwing himself at the tank. "Damnit, damnit, damnit!" His fists bumped futilely off the glass, bruising his knuckles. Realizing that he was making no headway with the force, he began knocking things off the shelves that surrounded the tank. "Agh!" He managed to dislodge one of the shelves from the ground and pushed it in Adam's direction.

When the heavy shelves hit the tank, a spider web of cracks gave on the surface. The formaldehyde solution that poured from them sickened him. "Ha. Haha. Haha!" he laughed loudly, watching as the tank slowly drained. "It's over, Adam."

His mirth was cut short as the full force of blood loss and exertion finally began to take its toll. In an attempt to walk past the corpse, he slipped on the solution and crashed into the shelving that had broken the cylinder. It tore his glasses from his face and left him with a gash on his cheek. "It's all over," he choked against the liquid, not even bothering to get back to his knees. "Over."

Heavy hands pulled at his limbs, and he slowly closed his eyes. He was paying the price for surrender, but what a beautiful thing it was. _I wonder what Angie would think._

--x

"Oh God, they're losing him," Leslie spoke, the panic clear in her voice. "Oh, oh, oh…"

She turned away from the observation room window, unable to watch the operation any longer. The GUILT that Dr. Clarks and Dr. Hoffman found had been violent and difficult, but why had the tide suddenly changed? They were at the end of the operation! Everything should have been right!

Tyler watched in dismay as the various monitors in the rooms began to flutter out of control. "Damnit, Derek!" he cried, slamming his palms onto the glass. Had the surgeons in the room not been so distracted already, the sudden noise probably would have drawn their vital attention away from the situation at hand. "You can't do this! Fight! Fight like you've never fought before!"

Was this going to be the end?

They began to massage the heart, unable to use the defibrillator with his chest open in mid-operation. No pulse, no pulse…

The doors to the O.R. flew open, only adding to the chaos of the room when Dr. Niguel ran in. He said something to the surgeons that Tyler couldn't hear from his spot outside the room before proceeding to more or less push Dr. Clarks to the side and injecting something directly into Derek's heart. There was a moment more of tense silence as the surgeon resumed the resuscitation.

A pulse!

"Leslie--" He turned around when he noticed that the nurse was no longer by his side. She had walked to the back of the observation room, not willing to watch the operation any further. "Les, come back. They've got everything under control. Victor came through with something or other; I have no idea what."

She slowly walked back over to the glass, letting out a soft sigh as she watched Dr. Clarks stitch his patient back up. "I guess everything's going to be fine," she replied, obvious relief on her face as she turned to Tyler.

"…I wouldn't say that until he wakes up. He's… he's probably not even going to know where he is, or who we are. Even if he survives, he'll probably be in the same boat he was before," he pointed out, frowning a bit. Why hadn't he realized it before? "I… I'm going to go talk to Victor and see if I can't get anything out of him on what just happened." Not even bothering to stick around and see what she had to say, he turned and exited the observation room.

When he finally found Victor, he was in the middle of a conversation with Director Kasal. Seeing as Dr. Kasal had been in the observation room with him and Leslie, it only made sense that he would have instantly gone to inquire about what had happened.

"Toxins," Victor replied confidently. "I ran some blood work whenever Derek first arrived at Caduceus in an attempt to try and discover the reason for his infection. There was the typical, malfunctioning protein that GUILT codes for its creation, a highly toxic chemical most likely created by the GUILT, and an anticholinergic, glycolate compound that Caduceus Europe had found on the ship that Derek had been sent to. It's probable that the compound was what caused his mental disorder, but I was more concerned with getting some sort of antidote for the toxin."

Director Kasal nodded. "Good work, Victor. If you hadn't thought to do that, Dr. Stiles would probably no longer be with us." The head pathologist said some sort of smart comment before walking off and leaving the doctor alone.

"…Director Kasal," Tyler spoke up, catching his attention. "I heard what Victor was saying about Derek's blood work and that… compound. If we could filter it out of his bloodstream, do you think maybe he'll return to normal?"

He thought over the question for a moment. "It's impossible to say, Tyler," he finally answered. "We'll find out whenever he wakes up. Until then… we can only assume that whatever damage was done was permanent."

"Oh. Thanks, director."

The possibility that Derek would be normal whenever he woke up caused Tyler to be giddy. _What about Angie? She was with Derek on that ship, and she ended up crazy--maybe the cases are related! _"We should run blood work on Angie," he suggested whenever he had thought it up. "Maybe she's got the, uh, compound, too. If she has the same problems as Derek, maybe we could find some way to destroy the chemicals or the GUILT before it becomes a problem."

Dr. Kasal nodded. "That's a good idea. I'll go find out about that right now." Tyler watched as he made his way down the hall. Now he was all alone--he needed to go find what room Derek had been transferred to and wait for him to wake up.

_Derek… You better be back to normal._

--x--

_a/n: How will things play out for our protagonist? Find out in the final chapter, coming to you in the near future! (…hopefully.)_

_Originally, Derek was supposed to die in this chapter, but that was before I thought of the ending that I've got prepared now. Guess that means for the time being, he gets to live. He really dodged a bullet there._

_Until next time, Auf Wiedersehen, loves._


	7. Murphy's Law

_a/n: After a long journey, this fanfic has finally come to its conclusion. I can't believe it took me so long to write these seven chapters! I've really enjoyed the experience, and I'm glad that I can finally conclude this sequel. Though I've deviated a LOT from the Atlus-presented storyline, there is a bit of foreshadowing to Second Opinion's 6__th__ chapter in this final installment._

_I'd like to thank everyone that stuck with me through the process, even when I was seven months between updates. I'd also like to thank Naomi ("Tay"), my unofficial beta reader who refrained from making fun of some of the stupid grammar mistakes I made while writing these chapters._

_Here's the final chapter of Striving toward "Tomorrow". This one's for you!_

"**Murphy's Law**

n. A rule that states, 'If something can go wrong, it will.' An addition to this law reads, 'and usually at the worst time.'"

--x--

_Over…_

Derek's eyes shot open as he gasped for breath. With his glasses off, it was difficult to make sense of his surroundings--but unless even in death he was cursed with poor vision, it was a good sign. Did this mean that, somehow, he had survived…?

He reached toward the table by his bed, grabbing his glasses and shoving them onto his face. Once the blurry shapes had formed into defined edges and shapes, he easily recognized his current location. _A Caduceus USA recovery room… _His gaze lowered to examine the bed that he was lying in and the devices connected to his arm. _I must have had some sort of surgery._

There was an uncomfortable tugging against his chest whenever he turned to examine the machinery around him, and he looked down to find a strong confirmation of his theory. Though the incision was bandaged and obscured from view and he knew that care had been taken to the sutures, there would always be a scar to remind him of what had happened. He shivered slightly, and gently placed a hand over it, half expecting it to tear open and reveal that he was dreaming, dead, or somewhere in between.

"Hey, you're finally awake."

The voice of his old friend dragged him from his morbid thoughts, and he quickly removed his hand from his chest. "Hi, Tyler," he greeted with a small smile. In his disoriented state, he barely realized how much he took being able to recognize him for granted. There was no doubt that this was the first time he had addressed the doctor by name in over two years--hell, it was the first time that he remembered him in just as long.

It caught him off-guard, and there was a pause before he could forms words in his surprise. "No way! You actually remember me, Derek," Tyler replied excitedly, cracking a large smile. "I didn't think I'd ever hear that from you again."

"Yeah, I never thought I'd say it again." That was misleading; for the longest time, he didn't think he had any friends to greet by name. Once he remembered him, though… well, considering the state he thought he'd be in upon regaining consciousness, he didn't think he was going to be able to greet _anybody_ by name or otherwise.

Nurse Sears cautiously entered the room, and Tyler immediately jumped from his chair and turned toward her. "Did you hear that, Les?" It was pretty doubtful that she would have been able to hear their conversation outside of the room, but given how loud Tyler was being… "Derek's back!"

His happiness was infectious, and she grinned cheerfully. "That's great! I'll go inform the directors." She was off again, and it looked as though Tyler was getting ready to follow her out the door.

"Man, that's just… I can't believe it." The smile faded from Tyler's face, replaced by a pensive look. "That must be the first time you've remembered my name in… two or three years. This… it's amazing, it's really amazing."

Derek smiled sheepishly. It was nice to remember things again, like a normally-functioning human being. Out of all the things he could remember, though, there was one thing he knew he couldn't be forgetting… Somberly, he raised his head and met Tyler's gaze as levelly as possible. "…Where's Angie?"

By the instant change in Tyler's attitude, he could tell that something was bothering him. His heart raced with anticipation, anxiously waiting for the answer that was clearly troubling his friend. "She's… Well, we put her under treatment to try and prevent the development of GUILT. I don't know how it's going since Victor is in charge of that kind of thing, but I could probably take you to her room." Tyler avoided his gaze, looking to the floor. "I'm sorry, man. The only thing you asked me to do was protect her, and--"

"It's okay," he cut him off. "You couldn't have prevented anything." _If anyone's at fault here, it would be me…_ It was hard for him not to blame himself. The farthest back he could remember, back to the first time that he had encountered Adam, he was the one that had put everyone at risk. He was the one who had demanded to see the truth for himself, ignored Dr. Miller's orders, and led everyone to Adam's body and hallucinogens.

Pushing all of that to the back of his head, he attempted to pull himself into a sitting position. It irritated his stitches, and he couldn't help wincing as pain shot through his chest. "Do you think you could take me to her?"

"You should be staying in here and getting more rest, but…" Even with his reassurance, it was still obvious that Tyler felt guilty. If nothing else, it at least meant that he wouldn't deny his request. "Come on--this is a special case. It'll be okay, just for a little while. Let's go; I'll show you the way there."

--x

"It has been well-documented that there are chemical compounds which cause the symptoms that both of you experienced… but never with such a long half-life."

Dr. Schwehn's face was serious and hard at the information. It was the first time he was getting any sort of information about what Caduceus USA had figured out, though it was more out of courtesy than anything else. There was nothing that said he needed to know what had happened, but after all he had done for him, Derek thought he deserved some sort of explanation.

"At any rate, I'm glad to see you both doing better. Thank you for telling me what happened." He smiled, relaxing against the back of his chair. "It is my assessment that both of you have fully and completely recovered. I'll fill out the paperwork for your release, effective immediately."

Derek grinned at the news. "Thank you, Dr. Schwehn." He rose from his seat, shaking the psychiatrist's hand.

"You're welcome, Derek. You too, Angie. It's a nice day outside; I hope both of you take some time to enjoy it."

Angie smiled politely at the psychiatrist. "We'll be sure to. Goodbye, Dr. Schwehn." She turned around and began to walk out of the office. Derek began to follow suit, hesitating a bit as he examined the office one last time. The mint wallpaper, the potted plant, the picture frame, the chair with the tiny stain--all of the items had been burned into his mind. Eventually, things would lose their clarity and he would forget them, but for now he could seal in the final details from this chapter of his life.

"Really… Thank you, for everything I…" he trailed off, shaking his head. "…Goodbye."

Before Dr. Schwehn could say anything, if there was anything he wanted to say, Derek quickly walked out of the room and shut the door. Angie had been waiting in the hallway for him, and she started toward the building's exit whenever he rejoined her.

People that they passed by in the hallway smiled at them. He could easily remember the first time he had walked down that hall, instantly being shunned by the residents and staff in the East Wing. With his new haircut and lack of a strait jacket, he doubted that any of them recognized him. There was no hatred or grudge--he smiled back at them as he continued walking.

Then there was the lobby, with its grand skylights that had been his window to the atmosphere and the things contained within it. Across from the hall they exited, he could see the Great Divide: the two doors that had once separated good and evil. He knew now that they were just doors; he knew that the condition of a person did not change according to where in time and space they stood. The doors only marked a separation between the East Wing and the West Wing, or at most the boundary between who society tolerated and who society frowned upon.

He paused slightly before the exit, looking at Angie. If there was anybody he really needed to thank, it was her. She was the reason why he had fought against Adam for so long, even after he had given up. It required something much longer and more complex than just a simple thank you, but he knew that there was no way he could express the emotion.

"It really is a beautiful day outside." As he spoke, he gently took Angie's hand and intertwined his fingers with hers. "We should enjoy it."

She squeezed his hand, smiling at him as she made no moves to pull away or hide the blush that had spread over her face. They pushed open the doors and stepped into the sunlight.

Derek remembered a saying he used to keep to himself in the Asylum. Tomorrow would be better. Tomorrow is always better. Tomorrow never really comes--but you can't let yourself think that. Tomorrow is on its way.

"Tomorrow" was finally here.

.//

_Caduceus Europe…_

_You bore me from my slumber in the heart of the ocean. You have seen my power, heard my potential, and have taken my body, cells forged from my cells, into your medicine to become "medicine." My body will become their body, and their cells will become vessels for my cells and my promise. I see you tremble, Director; are you excited… or are you afraid?_

_My prophet, Delphi, has not been destroyed. I, their leader, have not been destroyed. Did you think it was over, doctor?_

_It has only begun._

-fin


End file.
